


Rhymes with Orange

by EllieBear



Series: Logan Lives [9]
Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Domestic smut, F/M, Logan & Veronica AU Week 2020, Logan Lives, S4 AU, orange couch discourse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:48:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23354206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieBear/pseuds/EllieBear
Summary: What is with Logan and that damn orange couch?  Veronica needs to know.Written for the VM Fanfic Club LoVe AU Week 2020 prompt "Domestic Bliss."
Relationships: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars
Series: Logan Lives [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1563652
Comments: 28
Kudos: 75
Collections: LV AU WEEK 2020





	Rhymes with Orange

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Marshmellow Bobcat (MellowBobcat)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellowBobcat/gifts).



> Logan lives. Everyone is happy. Got it? 
> 
> Thanks to Irma66 who answered my 9 p.m. call to beta this little one-shot for me. All the appreciation in the world. 
> 
> Gifted to Marshmallow Bobcat because she said she was drinking and writing and she inspired me to do the same last night. lol So this is what happened when I did.

"I'll pay you $50 each if you drop that couch down the stairs on your way out."

"I heard that!"

Logan sticks his head out of the bathroom and the moving men chuckle.

"Don't worry, sir. Not the first wife that's tried to bribe us into breaking something on the way to the van."

Veronica huffs and moves to the side, allowing the burly men to move past her toward the door with the big orange couch. To get it through, they turn it on its side and Veronica resists the urge to yell "Pivot!" at them.

Logan steps out of the bathroom, a box in his arms, and comes down the hall toward her. "This isn't _Friends_." 

"Get outta my head, Mars."

Logan stops and places the packed box on the kitchen counter. "Sorry, Mars. We've been together too long. I know every corny joke in that beautiful head of yours."

"Okay. One of us really has to stop calling the other Mars."

"You started it."

"Yes! Because you taking my last name was cute and funny but it's been three months since the wedding and this joke is getting old."

"But you called me Mars first."

"Yes, and you should have replied with Bobcat or Sugarpuss or something else, not the same thing."

Logan's lips vibrate as he exhales. "Alright, sexy bitch."

"That—" she holds up her index finger to his face. "—is only for in the bedroom."

"Which I cannot wait to get to in our new home and call you that, once or twice tonight."

She opens her mouth to retort, but the movers came back, walking in like they own the place, and Veronica bites her lip. Arching her eyebrow at Logan, she sends him a mental picture of _exactly_ what she wants him to do to her in their house tonight and he must have received it because he licks his lips before shaking his head, chuckling as he walks back into the bathroom.

The last three months have been a whirlwind. When Logan was almost killed by Penn Epner's bomb in their car—saved only by the kevlar vest he always wore (the upside to being an intelligence agent)—Veronica realized the near miss was a sign. While he was still in the hospital, Jane came by to see him and sat down with them both in what essentially became their first couple's therapy session before she handed them off to the marriage counsellor they began to see on a weekly basis. 

Sixty days later, they dipped into Logan's inheritance and closed the deal on a small beach house, the irony being, the only reason they could afford it was that Epner's reign of terror had killed Spring Break in Neptune for good and housing prices dropped. And now, they were moving the big, ugly orange couch to a new home. Or at least the movers were, since Logan convinced her that they were grown-ups who could afford more than a U-haul and a few six-packs to bribe friends to help.

The house was by no means a "fix" for them, but it satisfied the deep need for domesticity that Logan craved and the space Veronica required to exist. It had one spare room that for now would be used to help Keith after his surgery and possibly, maybe, eventually a kid, but that was still something Veronica was working through during her personal counselling sessions with a colleague of Jane’s. In the meantime, Logan had applied to be transferred to the San Diego Naval Base to do intelligence training, a concession upon realizing that taking off at the drop of a hat was one of the many reasons for Veronica's reluctance to start a family.

As she fills the remaining boxes with the few random objects they had been using up until a few hours ago, Veronica notices a tightness developing in her chest. Watching the apartment empty, it now looked like it did when they first moved in. The reflection of the sun on the ocean coming in through the windows. The seafoam blue walls making it feel like they’re always on the beach. The glowing pink sunset warming the plain white kitchen cupboards. For almost five years, this was _home_. Their home.

And then that damn couch that showed up a week after they moved in. That ugly couch that Logan got on sale when she said she didn't care what he got, so long as it was comfortable. 

"I know we're trying to save your money, Logan, but can we please, please, please get a new couch?"

Setting a box down near hers, Logan scrunches his face in exaggerated thought.

"I thought we agreed to make do until my new posting?"

"I know. And we did. But I really don't see why you love that couch so much." Gesturing to the empty space where the couch once sat, Veronica sighs. "I mean, I saw your taste in clothing and vehicles in high school, but I thought you'd be over it by now."

"Okay, first, you know those were clothes picked out by a stylist from the latest trends, so I was completely in fashion, thank you very much." Logan rolls his eyes. "And two, there were no complaints about the XTerra when you were half-naked in the very roomy back seat with me."

"Yes, true, but aren't you the one who wants to be all grown up? Does an orange couch really scream 'grown-up'?"

"Fine. You want to know _why_ I want to keep the orange couch?"

"Yes! Please! Please Logan explain to me once and for all why you love that damn couch!"

Glancing over his shoulder, Logan watches the movers pick up two side tables and make their way out the door. When they disappear, he lowers his lips to her ear and she involuntarily shivers as his breath skims her lobe.

"Because ever since we moved in together, whenever I'm away, that couch features prominently in the thoughts that keep me very, very warm at night when I am very, very far away from you."

"It…" Veronica runs her tongue through her suddenly dry mouth and swallows, hard. "...does?"

"That time—after we first moved in—where you knelt on the cushions and I bent you over the arm and fucked you from behind until neither one of us could walk."

Warmth sweeps through Veronica and she crosses one leg in front of the other, trying to hold herself together.

"And that time I came home unexpectedly and you were asleep on the couch so I woke you up by sucking on your tits until you came just from that."

The rest of her body responds, her nipples hardening, her skin now tingling with anticipation.

"But my favourite is still when you did that striptease for my birthday while I sat there, watching, before you came and sat your pretty little ass down on my cock and rode me nice and dirty."

Veronica opens her mouth but only a gasp is released, her brain unable to form words.

"And _that_ is why I want to keep the couch, Veronica."

His lips retreat as the movers show up, and Veronica finally finds her voice.

"Hey...guys…" she calls to the men about to take away her TV stand.

"Yeah, Ms. Mars?"

"Make sure that couch is in pristine condition when you unload it, okay?"

With a snort of laughter, Logan retreats back into the bedroom, leaving Veronica a hot mess in the kitchen.

When she finally regains her composure enough to walk, Veronica saunters over to the space the couch once occupied, her foot drawing a line in the dust left underneath.

"You and your orange couch win this round, Mars. For now."

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> "Rymes with Orange" is the name of a Canadian band my husband once had a drunken run-in with at a festival. Which is a story on its own...(and yes, they misspell 'Rymes' on purpose.)


End file.
